The insects fade.
In hopes to resuscitate
Come springs winds
And summer haze.
I feel the alcohol
Poisoning my veins.
My lungs collapsing with
Every toke a i take.
See, I'm just an insect of
Capitalistic ways.
Winter's just another
Vicious cycle, waves
Crashing, washing
it all away. I fade.
I mix two poisons in midst
Of all the commotion
And let out this explosion
Of words i should have never
Said. Via twitter, via vine,
Via text.
I feed off the cycles of my
Sneaky ways.
But soon these clouds will
Precipitate and
"We will all resuscitate".
Regurgitate.
Take this moment to reflect
All that is correct
And erect
From the chair
You
Are sitting on.
Insects fade
Hangovers do the same.
But literature remains
In the trains
Of the cities
In our brains.
Those we populate,
And de-populate
On a daily basis.
On our daily commute
Into the womb of
US of A
Boston, Massachusetts. Junio 2013
